Guardian Angel
by TheCrownprincessBride
Summary: Hermione is lost. Draco has broken her, but can he also be the one to save her? Dramione. AU. Warnings for second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an idea I've had for ages, I was just waiting for the right prompt. It's very AU. Hermione and Draco might seem a little OOC, but their common past has broken her a little, I think. As for Draco, he's obsessed with her, and obsessed with redeeming his mistakes.**

 **Thank you to my betas:** Celestia0909, TartCat207, and alixxblack. **You were a great help.**

 **There might be a sequel/ second chapter, so stay tuned. Until then, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave me a review! :)**

* * *

 _Guardian Angel_

* * *

Draco knew that he was stalking her. Again. But he just couldn't take his eyes off her in that gorgeous garnet red dress. She wore her hair in an elegant updo; long curls, the colour of molten amber, framed her beautiful face.

Hermione smiled at the incredibly ugly guy who sat in front of her in the restaurant. Well, he actually wasn't _that_ ugly, but nowhere near as handsome as Draco himself. And he was a _Muggle_. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him – expensive suit, gelled hair, empty face; probably the most boring person he would ever meet. The guy seemed to be a lawyer from the firm Hermione now worked in. Not that Draco was keeping tabs on her or anything.

Draco gritted his teeth when the waiter blocked his view of Hermione and her date. He wished he had brought the extendable ears. But he hadn't. He hadn't even planned on following her today. It was just that … it was Valentine's Day, and he missed her terribly. He had wanted to step by and apologise for everything; and, most importantly, convince her to come back to him. Because he just _knew_ they were right for each other, even if he had hurt her terribly. He hadn't done it on purpose. Draco hadn't wanted to destroy her life. It just sort of … happened.

Honestly, he hadn't really expected to fall in love with the woman. _Hermione Granger_ – really? He could have had anybody. But no, his stupid heart wanted _her_. It had been so _easy_ to fall for her.

When Draco had hatched out his plan to infiltrate the Ministry, she'd been the easy target. Alone - Weasley, the stupid, ungrateful bastard, had left her for Lavender - and desperate; married to her job, so to speak. He had expected her to fall in love with him, but he hadn't planned on developing feelings for her, too. And finally, when he _had_ executed his plan, he'd never taken into account what it would do to her.

The waiter moved, and Draco could watch Hermione again. He marvelled in her beauty, trying in vain to read her lip movement. When he had apparated to her little flat this evening, she'd been about to leave, not even noticing him on the other side of the street. The guy, who was now sitting in front of her, had picked her up in his shiny car. Draco was _sure_ he had seen him before.

Suddenly, a terrible thought crossed his mind. What if _that_ was her boyfriend? At once, rage and jealousy seared through him, and he quickly took a large gulp of the Muggle whiskey he had ordered. It couldn't be. Hermione wouldn't – she couldn't! - she _must_ know that Draco and her were meant to be. She _must_ know how sorry he was, how much he wished to be able to turn back time, to redeem his mistakes. He would gladly go to Azkaban now if it meant saving her from her fate. But back then, he hadn't even considered it a possibility. Oh, how he regretted the decisions he had made.

He had promised her the world once, promised her heaven.

But it had been a lie.

All she had received was hell.

But Draco couldn't tell her how he felt. She hated him now. He had gone to her doorstep so many times, but never knocked. But tonight… tonight he had wanted to tell her, to beg her to come back to the Wizarding world with him. He owned enough money for the both of them, Hermione wouldn't even need to worry about finding a job. He would marry her and give all he had to _her._

But he knew it wasn't in her nature to give in to something like that. She wanted to make her own way and not just be his pet wife; she wouldn't want to be like all the other pureblooded wives. He admired her for that, but he also loathed her for it because it meant she'd never forgive him. He'd tried. He'd sent her countless owls, but all his letters had come back unopened. Then she had moved away, fled, and it had taken Draco ages to find her again.

Now the woman of his dreams was wasting her time with this odious Muggle, instead of being with him.

Draco sighed audibly, and all his anger left him. It was all _his_ own fault, he knew that. Hermione was only trying to survive, to live her life.

There was only one way he could pay for his mistakes, to make up for his grievances against her and maybe, just maybe, have a chance at redemption. He _had_ to protect her. That's why he was stalking her.

And maybe because he needed to see her, too.

He could barely go a week without sneaking around her apartment or workplace; waiting outside for a quick peek of her. Hermione wouldn't accept any help, so he had to try helping her in secret now.

Like a guardian angel.

* * *

"… and then I fired him," Roger grinned at her as if it was an accomplishment to fire scared apprentices. "I mean, what did he expect if he constantly got the files in a muddle?"

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, trying to sound as sincere as possible. Her smile, she suspected, probably looked more like a grimace. What had she been thinking by agreeing to this date?

Well, her co-workers had somehow talked her into it, and Roger _was_ a Junior Partner at _Williams & Pond_. She could ill afford falling out with him lest she surrender her chances at becoming a paralegal. But she needed the money. So she _had_ to sit here with this utter nitwit, pretending to enjoy this horrible Valentine dinner. Like some kind of common escort.

She couldn't help but compare it with the dinner she'd had one year ago, with a person she refused to waste her time thinking about. Because if she did, it would hurt, and she didn't want to hurt anymore. It was enough that he'd destroyed her career at the Ministry, her reputation, and her life in _their_ world. She _refused_ to let him destroy her fresh start in the Muggle world, too.

"I love you, I promise," he'd whispered into her ears, and she'd believed him.

 _Promises are the biggest lies in the world_ , Hermione thought, bitter. And _his_ promises most of all. Bittersweet and tempting, but in the end nothing but deceit.

To be fair, her demise hadn't been all his fault. She'd been so naïve to think Draco Malfoy would love her. Of course, he didn't. Of course, _he_ only ever thought of _his_ own interests – like _she_ should have done.

But no, she had given him her heart and, more importantly, access to the Ministry files and Harry's investigations; not willingly of course. When she realised that he had used her, it had been too late. Everything was publicised, the damage done, and she'd been sacked.

If that wasn't bad enough, Hermione had had to face charges and been stripped of her Order of Merlin honours. She'd had to pay the Ministry a large sum of money as indemnification – redemption of sorts – for the damage she had caused, and she was prohibited to practice as a lawyer in the magical world in perpetuity.

After that, nobody hired her and she'd fallen into public disgrace. Even Harry had distanced himself from her. He'd constantly warned her about Malfoy, and more than once, a meeting had ended in a fight because of that. Of course, Hermione believed the reason to be his school rivalry with the Slytherin.

After Ron had left her, she'd isolated herself from the world and pushed Harry away. So when everything had blown up in her face and she'd have needed him, she came to realise that they had become strangers. The inseparable trio was a trio no longer; barely even friends.

Harry had understood that she hadn't intended to let Malfoy infiltrate the Ministry or destroy Harry's hard work and investigation into _Malfoy Enterprises_ , but it had happened anyway. And, somehow, he hadn't been able to forgive her then. Ron could do anything, could run away in the middle of the Horcrux hunt and leave them starving and desperate, and _he_ would be welcomed back with open arms. But not Hermione. She couldn't even be forgiven for having fallen in love with the wrong person. There was nothing she could do about it.

So, disgraced, humiliated, and desperate, Hermione had left the world she was no longer welcome in. She locked away all the things that reminded her of it: all her old textbooks, photos, robes, and potions. She wasn't connected to the Floo network and complicated wards protected her house from being found by owls. That was the _only_ magic she allowed in her life. Granted, she had kept her wand, but she hardly ever used it. She even left it at home sometimes, to evade questions should somebody see it. Moreover, it reminded her too strongly of all that she had lost and the life she had once led.

She had to move on. As a Muggle. Working in a law firm. Going on dates with a _Muggle_. A 'normal' life. The life she _would_ have had, had she never received her Hogwarts letter.

And yet, Hermione _hated_ it. Hated it with all her heart.

She hated the mundaneness of it all; the small-mindedness of the people around her who followed the same boring routines every day; she hated that her day no longer held the same excitement that came with the magical world; and most of all, she hated how much she missed it, missed the thrill of magic flowing through her.

"Tell me more about you!" Roger demanded suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. "We've been working together for...what? Six months? And I know nothing about you!"

"There isn't much to tell," Hermione answered curtly. "I went to school in Scotland, then university, but I dropped out before I could graduate... family problems, you know? And then, I ended up here."

Uncomfortable, she shifted on her chair and fiddled with the wine glass. She hated to be reminded of her past.

"So, you're more than just a pretty face, eh?" He laughed and Hermione could see his artificially whitened teeth. "You could _definitely_ make it as a paralegal one day."

She had to hold back a snarky comment. She already _did_ the work of a paralegal, she just didn't have the paygrade of one. "Let's not talk about work on a beautiful night like this," she replied with a forced smile. She reminded herself to stay calm and flirt a little - she _needed_ that bloody job.

"It's not as beautiful as you are," Roger soft-soaped her. Did that _very obvious_ come-on ever work on the women he went out with?

"Thanks," she choked out and tried to look flattered. Oh Merlin, when was this dreadful dinner ever going to end? She _had_ to come up with a good excuse to not go out with him again, and definitely prevent him from staying at her place tonight. At first, she'd thought a night out might be good for her, make her forget Malfoy, but now she realised how big of a mistake it had been. Roger repulsed her; his attempt to flirt with her made her want to retch, and she only wished to be back home, curled up on the bed with a good book and some comfort food.

Merlin, were there no decent guys interested in her?

After they ate their desert, Hermione _tried_ to imply her desire to leave. Instead, Roger ordered another bottle of overpriced wine for the table. Albeit, the wine was good, but this was her third glass and the effects of the alcohol were slowly becoming noticeable. She felt too warm and her head felt light.

Then, a terrible suspicion crept into her mind. Was Roger _trying_ to make her drunk?

Hermione watched him while he poured her a glass. The arrogant, sleazy smile on his face, the dangerous lusty gleam in his eyes – yeah, he was _definitely_ trying to make her drunk.

Panic-ridden and nervous, she suddenly wished she had some sober-up-potion. But of course, she didn't. She didn't even take her wand with her.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , she berated herself.

She was in a dangerous situation with a guy that could clearly overpower her, and all because she had just wanted to be normal for once, yearned to fit into the life that was pushed upon her, longed for someone to be there beside her - even if it was Roger. An evening where she wasn't utterly, desperately lonely.

"Excuse me for a second," she said, smiling sweetly. "I just need to go to the bathroom."

"Of course." Roger nodded. Her skin itched as she felt his eyes on her back the entire time she walked to the bathroom. Maybe some cold water would help to clear her head.

* * *

Draco watched as Hermione stood up and walked nervously to the bathrooms. Her date's eyes seemed to be glued to her hips, swinging as she walked - the slimy git probably thought she was being seductive. Draco knew she did it unintentionally - it was just the way she walked.

Before Draco could draw his wand to cast a well-placed itching hex to distract her date, Mr. _Whats-His-Face_ had already turned and focused his attention on something else.

With bated breath, Draco watched as he took something out of his pocket and put it in Hermione's wine. Draco frowned. _What was this guy doing?_ Draco wasn't familiar with Muggle drugs. If it had been a wizard, he would have bet on love potion, but he wasn't a wizard. _So what else could it be?_ he wondered.

Whatever it was, Draco needed to get rid of it quickly, before Hermione came back. Swiftly, he stood up and strode purposefully in the direction of the bathroom, passing their table as if by accident. One silent spell later and the glass crashed to the ground as he walked by.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir," he apologised, feigning politeness. "I must have knocked the tablecloth."

The brown-haired man leapt to his feet and scowled at him. "This wine cost 100 pounds!"

"I'm sorry, Mr …?"

"O'Neil. Roger O'Neil," he replied between gritted teeth.

"Should I tell the waiter to put it on my check, Mr O'Neil?" Draco sneered in true Malfoy fashion.

Roger narrowed his eyes in disdain. "No. I can pay for myself. What did you say your name was?"

Draco smirked. "I didn't say. Now, if you're done making a scene, please excuse me." He fled the table as Hermione approached them, hoping that she hadn't caught a glimpse of him.

"Who was that?" Draco heard Hermione ask as he walked away with his back turned.

"Oh, no one…" Roger replied, considerably more put out than before. The rest of his response was drowned by the sound of chatter from neighbouring tables.

Making sure to be careful and not be seen by the couple, Draco made his way back to his own table. He couldn't help but feel smug about what he'd done. This guy had nothing that Draco didn't have - except that he was magnificently rude and lacked manners. Hermione _couldn't_ fall for _him_.

Well, she probably hadn't or _What's-His-Face_ wouldn't have needed such pathetic aids as drugs to 'win' her love. Draco snorted and finished his glass of whiskey. He knew, though, that he had to keep an eye on Hermione and this bloke, as it clearly wasn't beyond this man to scheme and use force to get what he wanted.

Draco mentally added this incident to his list.

He had saved her from being drugged and Merlin knows what else. That should count for something, shouldn't it? It was a baby step towards redemption. And when he had atoned for his transgressions, _that_ would be the day that he'd look her in the eye and ask for forgiveness.

But that was still a long way away. He'd have to redeem every single lie, every broken promise, and every deceitful thing he'd done.

Maybe, one day in a still distant future, Hermione might find it in herself to forgive Draco. Maybe next Valentine's Day, or the one after that. But until that day came, he would watch over her.

Like a guardian angel.

* * *

 _ ***** Written for the Houses Competition, Year 2 - Round 8*_

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Themed**

 **Prompt:** Promises are the biggest lies in the world.

 **W/C: 2, 764**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I realised I forgot the disclaimer last chapter, so here we go:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **WARNINGS for this chapter: violence and attempted rape (nothing too graphic, though). M-rated. Read at your own risk.**

 **So, finally, the continuation from last chapter. Sorry it took me so long. This chapter is UNBETAED. I'm sorry for any mistakes. Soo... I'm a little unsure about this chapter. It might be terrible. Consider yourselves warned - again...**

 **Anyway, without further ado...**

* * *

2\. Avenging Angel

After Hermione had returned from the bathroom, Roger hadn't been as intent on staying any longer than necessary as before. Thank, Merlin. They had quickly finished the wine, Roger had paid, and now they were walking back to the car. Hermione felt a little wobbly in her heels, and she silently cursed herself for drinking the wine he had offered. The fresh night air did nothing to sober her up, and she still felt a little dizzy when they reached the red Porsche.

Roger was tense beside her, but he tried to cover it up by telling her more meaningless compliments. She could feel that something had angered him, probably the guy that had toppled over her glass of wine. For a brief second, her breathing had stopped when she had laid eyes on him. There was something familiar about the angle of his shoulders, his gait, his platinum hair. But she had forced herself to not think about _him_ any longer. Actually, she should be thankful to that man because he had saved her from having to finish another glass of wine.

Roger, though, seemed suddenly very cold. Hermione didn't understand why that accident bothered him that much. It was only wine. Well, expensive wine, but he certainly had enough money to not be concerned by it.

The air in the car was stifling, or maybe it was just the atmosphere. Roger carelessly commented on this and that, and Hermione smiled like she was supposed to, but inside she just wished to be finally home. When he parked in front of her house, she couldn't help the relief that flooded her veins. Soon, she'd be in her comfy pyjamas, and the dreadful evening would be over. What a complete disaster, it had been.

As Roger killed the engine, she turned and smiled as sincerely as possible. "Thank you for the evening, Roger. It was very nice." The lies left her lips easily.

He didn't seem to notice because he smiled back. "Yes, a nearly perfect evening. Should we seal it with a kiss?"

Hermione had to hold back a snort. That was the bluntest come-on she'd ever encountered. But Roger had probably never met a girl who had rejected him. He was already leaning forward, about to bridge the space between them and press his lips onto hers.

Frantically, Hermione searched for a way to evade him that wasn't completely obvious. "Haaa-tshi," she sneezed, quite convincingly, or so she thought. Still, it had the desired effect and he recoiled. "Um, sorry," she sniffled. "I must've caught a cold or something."

"Oh, poor girl. Let's get you inside. It must be freezing in that dress," Roger hurried to say.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. They both knew that the heating in the car was still running. But the sooner she was in her house, the sooner she would be rid of him. She just needed a nice way of letting him down.

While she still contemplated her options, Roger had already left the car and held the door open for her. "Thank you." She took his offered hand and exited the vehicle, already searching her small beaded handbag for her keys.

Suddenly, she tripped over the cobbled stones – _blasted wine!_ – and Roger caught her, pulling her close. "Are you alright, darlin'?" he asked, and she could smell his cologne.

"Ah, yes. Thanks," she murmured breathlessly, trying to push away from him. But his hands were still on her arm, holding her close. She felt the body heat radiating off him, and goose flesh run over her spine; for a moment, Hermione thought he might try to kiss her again. She was already bracing herself, but then, he stepped away. He bent down, and picked up the keys that had slipped through her numb fingers.

"Thanks," she repeated, reaching for her keys, but Roger ignored her. Without asking for permission, he crossed the short distance to her front door and opened it.

Hermione hurried after him, carefully stepping over the threshold. The hallway was pitch-black. Her fingers fumbled around blindly before she found the small switch; glaring, electrical light greeted them.

"Which apartment is yours?" Roger asked casually, scanning the unmarked doors on the ground floor.

"It's this one right here." She nodded to her right. "But I'm fine. I can open it myself," she said pointedly, reaching out for the keys once more.

"Nice doormat," he remarked and placed the key in the keyhole. With a _click_ the door was eased open.

She scowled at him. "These are _my_ keys."

"Sorry." Only now did Roger realise her discomfort and smiled apologetically. "Here." He handed her the keys and their fingers brushed. "I just wanted to make sure you get home all right," he added, pushing the door fully open for her.

"Thanks." Hermione stepped around him, careful not to touch him again, and into the apartment. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she cursed the alcohol in her blood that had made her so clumsy. She turned to him, on hand on the door, read to close it. Roger leaned nonchalantly at the door frame, waiting for her to say something.

"I'm fine." She forced a smile on her lips. "Thank you for the evening."

He nodded, but still didn't move.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow at work," Hermione finally said when he didn't react. She tried to close the door, but Roger stopped her, pushing against it. "Yes?" she asked indignantly. "Was there something you wanted?"

Roger's whole body language changed. His sweet smile turned predatory, and she felt herself reacting. Adrenaline poured into her veins and her heartbeat accelerated.

"Do you think I invest a whole evening into an only reasonably good looking woman – no offence – and don't expect to get something out of it?" Roger drawled, surprising her by pushing the door open and entering her apartment as if he owned the place. Hermione stumbled back, caught off guard by his movement. Carefully, he closed the door behind him.

Instantly, Hermione felt trapped, but she decided not to show it. She had dealt with predators before, with hunters and criminals – and, whatever you did, you couldn't show them your fear. So she huffed, glaring at him. Did he just say _only reasonably good looking_? "Yes, I thought just that. If you would go now, please?" she replied in a controlled voice, gesturing towards the door.

Behind her calm façade, her thoughts were racing. Where had she placed her wand again? But it wouldn't do to curse him. She would lose her bloody job!

 _But_ , she could _obliviate_ him, she remembered. No problem. She only needed to make sure he would never ask her out again.

Roger growled, homing in on her. Automatically, Hermione took a half-step back, then another, until the edge of the dining table stabbed into her back.

"My co-workers already told me you were a prude. But I don't mind." He was in front of her now, so close the acidic smell of wine, mixed with his musky cologne, filled her nostrils. "And, for you information, I _do_ expect to get something out of this evening."

She glared at him. She knew exactly what he was insinuating, but if he had thought she was one of those weak, simple-minded women who fell for his charm or let herself be coerced by alcohol, then he was very much mistaken. "How dare you! Out of here at once!" she snapped and pushed him back a little, but he didn't budge.

Roger only grinned smugly. "Are you sure about that? Because, if that's the case, you might not have a job tomorrow."

"You don't have a say in the human resources management!" Hermione snarled, her fingers curling around the edges of the table that barred her way. Suddenly, she knew exactly where she'd put her wand. In a drawer in her bedroom. _Shite_.

Roger shrugged with an air of self-confidence that made her shudder. "I play golf with Mr. Williams every other Sunday," he replied triumphantly. "You should reconsider my … _offer_. I can make you a paralegal tomorrow _or_ have you sacked. And what then?"

 _Yes, what then?_ Hermione wondered. She _needed_ the money, and he knew that. Her eyes flickered to the door that led to her bedroom and then back to him. If she only had her wand!

"I can _destroy_ you, Hermione," Roger threatened, about to deliver the final blow that would make her give in. "No law firm will ever hire you and you'll end up as a cleaning lady or worse." He chuckled, tilting his head like a reptile. "Your choice."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. Blackmailing women into sex, how low could you sink? She only needed to get that damn wand and he would forget he'd ever threatened her. But to get her wand, she needed to get to the bedroom. It was something, of a catch-22, a dilemma. There was only one way, she was going to reach that bedroom, and she didn't like it. Making a decision, she opened her eyes again.

Roger had approached her, standing even closer, but he hadn't touched her yet. "I reconsidered," she admitted between gritted teeth.

"I thought you might," he replied lightly. "Most people do."

So, this wasn't the first time he had done this, threatened women, forcing them into sex with him. Hermione could picture it. Oh, how he repulsed her! But, in her mind, there was no other way. He was certainly stronger than her and he had her caged in.

Carefully, she shifted a little, sliding along the table towards the door. "So, you'll make me a paralegal?" Hermione asked in the attempt to stall him, while she moved in the direction of the bedroom.

"Maybe." Roger grinned wolfishly. "If I'm satisfied with your performance."

Bile rose in her throat and she had to swallow hard."Don't worry," she choked out and walked past him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, grabbing her wrist and roughly pushing her against the wall.

"Bedroom?" she squeaked, hating that she sounded so frightened, but her heart was in her mouth.

He laughed. "We don't need a bed, darling."

His body pinned her against the wall, and Hermione thought she might suffocate from panic. She couldn't move. Deliberately slowly, Roger bent forward, and Hermione thought he must see the terror in her eyes, but he didn't care. Then, his mouth claimed hers. There was no love in the kiss, not even passion, just hunger. It scared her, and it made her furious at the same time. She had to fight hard to control herself and not bite him. That would only trigger him to return the favour.

"But …" she contradicted, when his mouth left hers. Roger paused. She squinted at the bedroom door. It was only a few feet away. Maybe she could make it if she were quick. "But it's more comfortable," she said in the way of explanation, sliding slowly along the wall and reaching for the door knob. He watched her open it, something curious in his gaze.

But when he stepped forward, there was nothing but hunger in his eyes, hunger, and lust, and desire. Hermione panicked. Chanting the summoning spell silently, she turned and stumbled towards the drawer. _Accio wand, accio wand_ , she repeated in her head, but the spell that had once worked so effortlessly had no effect at all. Hermione had repressed her magic for too long.

Her fingers barely managed to touch the wooden nightstand before strong hands grabbed her and hauled her onto the bed. Roger loomed over her, pushing her down with one arm. "I should have known you'd never give in that easily," he said, breathing hard. His gaze was sharp as he turned his head. "So what's in there? A gun?" He reached for the drawer.

"Nothing! There's nothing in there!" Hermione yelled – maybe a tad too desperate to sound credible – and used her right hand to aim a punch at his stomach, but he warded it off easily. At least, she managed to distract him from the contents of her nightstand.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he mocked, turning his attention back to her. "Who would've guessed?" His eyes grazed over her body, and Hermione felt her skin crawl. Pinning her arms above her head, he bent down to kiss her violently. This time it was a kiss to punish, to hurt. His fingernails bit into her wrists and she gasped. Roger's smile broadened. He liked it, he liked to inflict pain. She had to do something, _now_!

The chance arose when he shifted his weight to place bruising kisses on her neck and shoulders. Her legs were free! Without hesitation, Hermione seized the opportunity and kneed him. The angle wasn't quite right, so she missed her target; but it hurt. Automatically, the man drew back, loosening his grip on her hands. Quickly, she turned and ripped the drawer open. She managed to touch the yearned for wood, nearly grab it, but then she was yanked back and his flat hand connected with her face.

She hissed in pain. " _Bastard_!"

"You bloody kicked me!" he screamed at her as if that was an excuse for hitting her, as if that would make her understand. He was livid, but his rage was cold and controlled, and she knew she was in big trouble.

Just as Hermione prepared herself to fight him again, Roger suddenly groaned, flinching back from her as if she had burned him. "What the hell?" he hissed, half-turning towards the door, as if expecting to find someone behind him, but nobody was there.

Luckily, whatever it had been, had distracted him long enough for Hermione to obtain her wand. This time her fingers closed around the vine wood, and a jolt of magic shot through her. All of sudden, she felt powerful. All fear left her and was replaced by calm anger. How dared he to treat women – _her_ – like that!

"You made a mistake, Roger," she said dangerously low.

His head snapped around and he stared right at the tip of her wand. That didn't seem to impress him, though. "What mistake would that be?" he laughed, mocking. "And what is that? A piece of wood?"

A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "Yes," she replied calmly. "But a special piece of wood. _Relashio_."

The spell forced him to loosen his fingers around her arm until she was free.

"What did you – ?" he gasped, stumbling backwards and staring at his hand.

"Well, I'm a witch, you see," she said sweetly. Then her gaze hardened. He should've known better than to mess with her. " _Levicorpus_." A wave of her wand hoisted Roger into the air by his ankle. Harry had been right. It was a damn good spell. She straightened her back and walked over to him, magic pouring off her in waves. "The mistake you made was to underestimate me, Roger!"

For a moment, Roger struggled against her binding, but then he gave up. His breathing came out in panicked gasps, his eyes suddenly wide with fear. "Please don't. _Please_. Don't kill me!" he whimpered. He was _begging_.

 _How pathetic_ , Hermione thought.

"Kill you? No." She smiled evilly. "I'll only teach you to never blackmail anyone again. And then, I'll make you forget this evening." Slowly, she walked around him, her fingertips grazing his shirt, and she felt him shudder. "But I'll make sure you'll remember to never pick a fight with me again. I'll make you regret treating me like that." She turned his face, so he had to look at her. "You'll never hurt anyone again, understood?"

Roger nodded, panic-stricken. "I promise."

He would promise her anything now. She could see his dread in his eyes. He didn't know how to handle a situation in which he was completely powerless, inferior, defeated. He was used to being in control, to manipulate others. But no more.

"Come to think of it, you'll make me a paralegal tomorrow. And I'll get double income," she added. What was her magic good for if she didn't use it? She didn't give a damn about the Ministry. She was already an outcast, an outlaw, a criminal. Why not use it to her advantage?

"Yes, yes! I'll do anything!" Roger sobbed, swinging to and fro. He repulsed her even more now.

For the first time in her life, Hermione enjoyed the power she had over someone else. After they had all wronged her and made her suffer, after her friends had so cruelly turned their back on her, she wanted revenge, to leash out and spread her pain. Roger had deserved it. She had always accepted things as they were, suspecting that they had been her own fault, but that time was _over_. She would never be pushed around again!

"Good! With what should we start? He, pretty boy?" She tilted her head. "Ah, I know." She aimed her wand at his face. " _Furnunculus_."

* * *

Draco smiled to himself as he observed how Hermione grabbed her wand and jinxed the scumbag that had attacked her. She could handle herself now. She had only needed a little help.

Maybe, one day in a still distant future, Hermione might find it in herself to forgive Draco. Maybe next Valentine's Day, or the one after that. But until that day came, he would watch over her.

Like a Guardian Angel.

Still smiling, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

 **So, I hope you liked it. Leave me your thoughts...**

 **~CP**


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